Avoiding home, is the only way I can truly be happy. At home… you get treated differently and because I’m not in that popular crowd… I’m punished.

My mom doesn’t care. My dad doesn’t listen. My sister is too self-centered to even have a conversation.

This is where I find my peace… through my writing.

Crying myself to sleep every night doesn’t help with my self-esteem. When the tears roll down my face, I’m setting a goal to never cry again… at least not for the rest of the week. Yet, that goal is shattered like a baseball hitting a glass window in the summer.
When I cry, I cry for the emptiness of my life. The changes that I’ve been forced to make. The suffering of depression that fills my heart with helplessness. Compassion used to be my middle name, but now it’s just a memory replaced with pain… just a thing in the past, like the people that pass me by each and every day. Life goes on, I know, but sometimes it doesn’t feel worth it to live a life of depression.

Cold is what spirals through me, up and down… the second I begin the road to happiness, the twister of depression knocks the wind out of me and makes me fall to the same old familiar place. The most undesirable place for any human being. Never looking beyond a point of tenet, because you are falling down a bottomless pit.

Alone.

Scared.

Unwanted.

When you’re depressed, it’s like your drowning. You know what’s happening, but you can’t stop the forcing pull of the downward current. Depression comes from the inner most part of your heart… When tears are shed, sometimes, it makes you feel better… but in the cases of depression… there’s no such thing as “feeling better”.

You find your heart in something that can describe you… where no one can judge you and only you can relate, because you can’t find anyone else, who feels the same way. Ultimately, you’re never truly alone when you find the light at the end of that bottomless pit where someone is willing to catch you.